Passion changes everything
by Cafe de Flore
Summary: Sometimes you need a night to start seeing the daylight of some things so obvious. Temari's POV [ShikaTema]. Warning: MA.


To myself, I never really denied that something was always different between us. I never gave it much thought, especially when I was younger, but the looks we shared and the conversations we had made me feel somewhat intrigued and I waited for those encounters with some anticipation. I would tell myself that I liked teasing him and that wasn't a lie, but when I think back – maybe it wasn't completely truthful after all. It was an honest lie to myself, as I did not know any better.

In the end, I wasn't exactly surprised to find myself in his bed.

* * *

Everything started with our usual duty of organizing chuunin exams and working as liasons for the third time now.

As usual, he picked me up at the gates of Konoha, complaining about my late arrival and his aching ass due to sitting so long on a bench, waiting for me. As usual, I told him to stop being such a cry baby or his ass will hurt even more. As usual, we slowly walked the streets of Konoha side by side, throwing sarcastic comments to one another and smiling slyly, enjoying each other's company but never planning to admit that to anyone, especially to one another.

After picking up our tasks for the exams at Hokage's, we went for a lunch. It wasn't unusual and he teased me about eating so much and I asked him if he's worried he won't be able to pull his eyes away from my chest if I gained some weight and they'd get even bigger. He blushed, I won.

As he lie down on the grass on his usual spot on the same hill, I made sure he wouldn't get tranquility he craved for. I don't really think he expected any while I was in Konoha – he knew me too well by now. Nevertheless, he feel asleep, and for the n-th time I watched him sleeping. His Nara-style pony tail, calm face, the shape of his jaw, not shaven for several days, the way his chest was moving when he silently inhaled. Over the years he has gained some muscles and was no longer a skinny boy I met during my exams some long time ago.

My eyes wandered on his chest, that was nicely visible through his unzipped vest, and I stared into the outline of muscles and his nipples, slightly protruding through the fabric. I followed them up and down as they moved with his lazy breaths. Glancing up I found him staring back at me with an amused smile and one eyebrow cocked up. I lost.

On the second day of my visit we were asked if we could find a place for our work elsewhere, as the room in the Hokage building we usually got was desperately needed for a meeting. That was the day when I stepped into his apartment for the very first time. His place was a mess, as expected, and I could clearly see he lived alone among the dirty plates, dusty surfaces and wrinkled clothes in the corner. Unexpectedly, he went through all the trouble of tidying up before we would start working, and his expression was literally painful, even though he did not vocalize any complaints. I couldn't refrain from teasing him about the bugs, probably living in his kitchen, that would make even Shino jealous, and he rolled his eyes, mumbling his favourite mantra about troublesome women.

In a minute he answered with a mockery about my unlady-like handwriting and I shut him up with a look. He stared back, just like he always does, and we exchanged some sly smiles that made me feel curious, as I couldn't decipher what they actually meant. I never could. His feet accidentally brushed against mine under the table as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head in a usual fashion, making eye contact that exact moment and suddenly it did not feel so normal and usual any more. I caught myself getting aware of his gaze, stranger than usual, as he was asking me about the opponent for the student No. 5; aware of his moves as I watched his hand reaching for a sheet of paper on my side of the table; aware of his gentle yet chilling touch when he handed me a cup of tea, brushing the back of his palm against my arm. I felt tense.

With his vest hanging on the back of his chair, he stood in front of the window, gazing down at the busy street as I gazed at his lean figure and broad shoulders, brought out by his close-fitting T-shirt. I forced my look away, for some reason feeling uncomfortable in this room with him, and concentrated on writing, completely oblivious that he walked over and stood behind me. I smelled his perfume and inhaled deeply without a second thought when I found his face inches away from mine, hovering above my shoulder, his eyes fixed on my paperwork – or so it seemed. His breath tickled my neck, intentionally or not, and I wondered if he can feel this too and whether this subtle game was being played consciously.

Trying to switch my attention to other things than uneasiness inside me, I scolded him for slacking off and leaving all the work for me, and he only shrugged, claiming to be too hungry to work. Rising up from my chair I told myself I needed a break too, but I'm not sure if that was really the case. It might as well have been my hormones, craving for some action, as slight as a simple touch, and fighting the rational part of my brain. The latter seemed to be of very low influence that day.

I still remember how _intimate_ his hands felt on my shoulders, when he tried to gently push me out of the way to the fridge. His touch was soft, but firm; gentle yet tight. And I found myself playing along – standing a little closer than necessary, brushing my hand against his when handing something, laughing a little more than I used to. And when he lifted his hands up behind his head again and leaned against the kitchen counter, the bottom of his T-shirt moved up, revealing a little patch of skin just beneath his navel and I simply could not stop staring. With my eyes fixed on the outline of his stomach muscles I froze, feeling the strange _urge_ to touch his skin. Now. I wanted, no, _needed_ to put hands there and _feel_ him, run my fingers up his shirt and down in his pants as well. Shifting my gaze towards his face I was relieved to see his eyes closed, yet the next second they opened and with a sly smile and a voice, sounding as if he _knew_, he asked me why do I stare. I did not know if I had lost.

As I was leaving after the day's work he casually offered me to come later for a movie, if I had nothing else planned. His usual lazy expression did not give away anything and I made sure neither did mine, as I casually agreed.

Standing naked in front of the bed, covered in clothes I had packed, I stared down with my brows furrowed, struggling with a problem I rarely faced, spending an extra minute on the unusual decision. So I picked up a matching set of black bra and panties, because a girl can never know. But I think I knew.

As I set my tessen down against a wall in his apartment, he asked me why did I bring it here for an evening. I said nothing as I knew he knows why I did. I always do. Standing behind me he handed a glass of wine and I turned around to see his eyes darting down to my cleavage, that was more revealing than usual that night, and I flashed a grin, enjoying the view how he desperately struggled to get his eyes back up. I won.

I could not say what the movie was about as I was too overwhelmed by our closeness on the couch, our tights almost touching, our shoulders almost touching, by the fact that I could hear his breathing and I knew he could hear mine, and it sure was getting a little heavy as I could practically feel something electric in the room between us. I tensed up every time he moved, secretly glancing at his hands, not sure if I wanted them closer or further away from me. It was frustrating, and I do not know if I mean it in a bad way.

After pouring myself another glass, I opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside into refreshing summer night. He came behind me too and I heard his lighter snapping, followed with a cloud of white fume that surrounded me as he blew the smoke right towards me. I felt anxious and a little uncertain about turning around to face him as the heavy feeling in my chest was getting even worse now. I gathered myself and slowly moved my head, my eyes meeting the strangest look of his, that sent shivers down my body, and that instant I knew. Everything was decided; it was just a matter of time now.

I stepped closer, snatching a cigarette from his hands and blowing a smoke myself. He said nothing, neither did I. We just looked into each other's eyes and then, it seems, I understood what all our sly looks meant. In a way it all made sense right now. His hand reached towards mine and he took my glass, bringing it to his lips. We both smiled about our little exchange and after inhaling another puff I gave his cigarette back and my wine was placed in my hand again.

It was getting a little cold, so still with a half-smile on my face I moved towards the door, getting ready to squeeze myself thought the gap as he stood in the doorway, leaning his shoulder into the jamb. With my sight fixed towards the room, and his – somewhere far away in the night sky, his fingers wrapped around my arm, stopping me right next to him. His hands were warm yet they felt hot to me, firing up my whole body. Normally, I would have asked just what the hell does he think he is doing, but there was no need for that, because I knew. We both knew.

He blew a few more smokes and I finished my wine, his hand still on my arm. I did not try to break free and I knew he would have held me even if I did. With a snap of his fingers, he sent the cigarette butt flying over the balcony and the next second I was pushed against the railing, my back to his chest, his breath against the nape of my neck, both of his hands on my arms.

I felt my fingertips pulsing with anticipation as he leaned close to my ear and whispered, asking me to name the constellations I knew. My fingers wrapped around the cold railing and I raised my eyes into the sky, frantically looking. Pisces. Aries. Triangulum. His hands shifted from my arms to my shoulders, then my neck, my back, and my voice faltered with Pegasus on my lips. I sighed heavily, and again, as his hands moved agonizingly slow against the curve of my back, exploring, and the weakness crept over me, making it difficult to think. I tried my best to concentrate and fix my eyes on the stars. Andromeda. Cassiopeia. And Perseus never left my lips as his hand slid around my waist and another – on my hip, descending down to my leg. I crooked my head back with my eyes shut tightly as another ragged breath left my lips. He grabbed my hips and turned me around and passion so strong I've never felt engulfed me as I stared into his piercing eyes. I leaned back into the railing and his hands took a hold of it inches from my sides, his body leaning into mine so lightly, but close enough for me to feel his erect member, that was propping against my lower belly.

His lips found my ear and he softly kissed a patch of skin just above my carotid artery, immobilizing me even further. He waited and teased, and seeing me captive in the passion he caused, he indulged himself in the sweet moment of victory as I had so obviously lost.

However, you could say that this time I had yielded.

I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt my insides only to think about that. I wanted to sink my nails into his skin and I needed him to do the same, to press me hard against the wall, pull my hair, touch my body roughly, rip my clothes away and fuck me hard.

But what I got was a never-ending tease that I both loved and hated, and I even now I don't know why I let him do it instead of forcing everything my way. Maybe it was because I both loved and hated it? But today was a day of his game and I simply played along, with my belly aching, as his lips hovered above mine for, it seems, an eternity.

There was a sweet lingering in the moment, excitement of something new and unfamiliar, the smell of anxiety and adventure. You could say that up to this point it was still innocent, and if we were to part now, and someone would ask later, we both could safely and truthfully admit – nothing has happened.

However, this moment – so innocent yet so torturing, was a definition of sweet pain, and we were both holding on, indulging ourselves in it, (im)patiently waiting for another to succumb and give up to the passion. It was always a competition between us, but never before it was so intense.

I sighed through my parted lips and shifted my head to the side, inviting his mouth to meet mine, but his lips only curved into a little smile. My hands left the railing and I slid my fingertips under his shirt, finally satisfying my secret urge. It did not help my resistance to eliminate those inches between our lips and just as I made my decision, I felt his lips touch mine lightly. Apparently, I wasn't the only one unable to resist any more.

My thoughts got clouded from the lack of oxygen while we kissed, but his hands around my waist held me so tightly I had no fear of falling down. His lips attacked mine like his shadow attacks an enemy – fiercely. His hips pushed me against the railing and I opened my eyes for a second, noticing the constellations staring down at us, as he bit my neck and I pulled his hair, hard.

He mounted me against the wall harshly and I felt my shoulder blades aching with the impact, but my hands rose up to cling around his neck as he pressed me between a wall and his body. And God, I loved the way he squeezed my neck with his fingers as he shoved his tongue inside my mouth, depriving me from oxygen.

I brushed my nails against his bare chest and his gasp did not go unnoticed as my index finger grazed his nipple, while he grabbed my thigh and lifted it up, pushing his erection hard against me, making me shudder with desire.

His hasty hand soon found its way to my ass and squeezed it tightly with a sharp sound of air entering his lungs, as I pulled his hair back again, sinking my teeth into his shoulder. My breathing got heavier when his fingers sneaked under my dress through the cleavage. He pulled the fabric apart, widening the gap, cupping my breasts softly, staring into my eyes the whole time. His mouth curved into a sly smile as I moaned loudly to the sudden painful clasp of his hands on my breasts. I moaned not from the pain but pleasure.

With already usual roughness I pushed him on the bed, crawling on top, allowing him to enjoy the sight for a minute before he swiftly changed our positions. His tongue filled my mouth again, his hands grabbed mine and pushed them above my head, holding them steady.

I guess if you looked at this more closely, what was happening fit nicely into our unusual relationship. Here, now, we switched roles, and he showed me his bossy, controlling, dominant side while I became submissive. And he found out just how much I loved _this_ as he slid his fingers into my panties, not-so-gently biting my nipple and my throat made some pre-orgasmic sound.

I wished I could take his pants off, but I couldn't. I wished I could put him under me and sit on his cock right now, but I couldn't. I wished I could push his face between my legs, but I couldn't. What I could do, and I did, was fight with my body, that was uncontrollably moving with his fingers pushing against my most sensitive spot, and fight with my voice box, that was vocalizing my emotions frighteningly loudly.

I felt him laugh against my neck before he kissed it and I knew he enjoys this not only in a physical way. It was his way of revenge to all my snappy mockeries, but this time, so unlike me – I could care less. I was more than willing to lose if the defeat felt like this.

My hands were free to explore the naked body above me and they went straight for the most important part, quickly changing his smirk into more intense expression. I wrapped my legs around his waist and guided his penis right between my legs. In his eyes I could see he still wanted to tease me, but I guess the want to fuck me finally won. Staring at each other we held our breaths in unison, as he _slowly_ entered me and I was forced to let out a load moan, the satisfying feeling taking a better of me.

His hips moved back and forth several times, slowly, and I was already hyperventilating. Again, I needed him hard and fast and strong, and what he gave me was slow, agonizingly slow.

But not for long. This was too much of a tease not only to me, but for him as well, and he grabbed my hips tightly, positioning himself between my thighs, and pushed into me hard, never taking his eyes away from me. I screamed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Then he engaged in a steady rhythm, fast, hard and fulfilling, exactly as I wanted it, and I sunk my nails into his back, surely leaving something to remember tomorrow, and pulled his hair, he pulled mine, releasing them from their ties, and every hitched breath sounded like a silent shout as I felt myself shiver from the familiar sensation of getting closer.

He noticed, and his hand descended, reaching for my clit, pounding into me simultaneously and my lungs gave in. I panted like a dog, sweat rolling down my forehead, and under my fingers I felt his back hot and wet as well, his breaths next to my ear became more and more intense.

I couldn't hold back any longer, I couldn't endure. I held my breath and closed my eyes, my hands shivering from their tight grip on his arms, my back arched by itself and I couldn't hear anything except deafening tinnitus in my ear, pulling all my concentration on the last seconds before I explode.

It felt like eternity and I under my closed eyelids I saw brightly blinking lights and then

it hit me

shattering

overwhelming

convulsing

hypnotizing

numbing

and I finally opened my eyes, gasping for air that I released with a scream I failed to hear myself, and catching a glimpse of his strained face, that looked like he was in pain. Yet I knew better, as I could still feel his penis pulsing inside me, splattering his seeds. A mere thought caused another orgasmic cramp in my belly.

Then, we collapsed.

* * *

The ray of morning sunlight lit the room and crawled upon my face, forcing me wake up in an unknown territory of Shikamaru's arms.

Overnight, my honest lie became a mere nickname for the actual truth, and now I started seeing all the things that happened in the past with a set of new eyes. The looks we shared, the conversation we had, and the feeling of something different between us – it had a name. It always did. Passion.

And passion changes everything.


End file.
